The Six Year Old Who Wanted Nothing
by foxghost
Summary: Series of events that led to the Ellyn Amell in "The Maker's Chosen." Dark.


_(A series of snapshots illustrating life before the Circle for Ellyn Amell. She can't remember any of it – giving up her memories was part of her deal with Mythal.)_

* * *

><p>"Is there anything you want for your birthday?"<p>

Ellyn looked up into her father's kindly eyes. Even while he knelt close to her in order to speak to her at her height, she still needed to raise her head a little. "No, daddy."

Her father's eyebrows knotted together and he narrowed his eyes. Ellyn had always been a bit of a peculiar child, but an exceedingly well behaved one. However, when an almost six year old refused a birthday present request, it became cause for concern. "Are you sure? What bout that fairy doll we saw at the Wonders of Thedas?"

"No, daddy. I don't want anything." Ellyn moved forward a little, on her tiptoes, and kissed her father on the cheek. Turning away, she took the stairs down to the library, where she knew mama was reading.

Ellyn climbed into her mother's lap and told her of the conversation with her father. There were some rules that mama told her always to follow: want nothing, be good, and if papa talked to her, relate it all to mother.

Mama told Ellyn she was a very good girl.

* * *

><p>Lord Amell knew that there was something wrong with his daughter, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She was obedient, sweet, and seemingly perfect in every way. She had her mother's eyes and her father's hair, a sweet countenance that went with her sweet manners. All their guests adored her, and commented on how well behaved she was compared to their own children.<p>

That was it. She was not like other children at all. She never fought, whined, or cried. She was always the picture of serenity, which made her almost unsettling to be around.

"You worry too much," said Revka during one of their chats in the library late in the night. "She's just a good girl, that's all."

Lord Amell wanted to remind his wife that six year olds were supposed to be bouncy and troublesome; that was one of the advantages of being young, but Revka looked so timid and haunted right now he just couldn't make himself say it. He held her and reassured her that that was it, their child was just uncommonly good.

* * *

><p>Revka was tired of being afraid all the time.<p>

When Ellyn was eight months old and barely learned to walk, she had a fall in the courtyard. They were not out there a lot, so even though Revka had seen her fall before, the way toddlers always did in their months of transition from crawling to walking, she never saw Ellyn hurt.

Ellyn fell on the gravel, pushed herself back up, and kept walking.

Her mother stared at her from not ten feet away. A part of her brain was screaming, the other hopeful that what she saw was not happening. Her mouth moved and a string of prayer left her lips, while her daughter slowly turned around after reaching one wall of their rose garden.

Her knees were perfect. Not even marred by a tiny little scratch. Revka felt the tickle on her chin before she noticed the tears that ran down her face to collect there; her attention on the spots of blood in the gravel. Ellyn did not seem to notice her mother's distress at all. She ran to Revka with all the enthusiasm of one who first learned to walk. She nearly fell again, but grabbed a hold of Revka's skirt just as she stumbled, and righted herself, giggling.

From that day on, the seclusion and lessons began. Ellyn had to be perfect, free of scrutiny. No friends, no fights – if she was hurt outside, she would heal herself and reveal her for what she was. Revka shadowed her daughter, rarely allowed the two of them outside. She convinced herself that it was only going to be a little while. Only until Ellyn was old enough to understand not to use magic in public.

Giving her to the Circle was not an option. No one must know that their child was a mage; the Amells had dishonour enough without mage blood.

Her husband was getting more suspicious, his questions more pointed. It was a matter of time, she knew, before he would figure things out for himself. She only wished that the man agreed with her.

* * *

><p>Lord Amell was not particularly attached to his daughter.<p>

She was a good girl, sure, but there was nothing special about her. She was not a joy to be around, she did not laugh the way other children did. Aside from reading, she did not seem to have any other hobbies. When she smiled it was eerie, as if she was smiling purely because that was what you wanted to see.

Whenever he caught her unawares, her expression was always blank. Ellyn would make a fine lady, he reasoned. She would grow up to wear the perfect poker face, make a fine wife for a man of high position. With her temperament, Ellyn would become a perfect politician's wife.

For now, he busied himself with his daughter's birthday. Revka adamantly refused to host a party for her, complained of her weak health as an excuse. All he was allowed to do for her was perhaps some special Orlesian pastries from the market and maybe that fairy doll he saw her eyeing last time the family was out.

He felt a bit of a fool, smuggling his daughter out of the house while his wife took her afternoon nap. It was necessary. Revka never allowed Ellyn outside without her, and they never went farther than the market. It was not as if he planned to take Ellyn to another town or city, only to the Wonders of Thedas, a little shop ran by the Circle of Magi that sold all kinds of enchanted things. She'd probably want another book, he thought, if not the dolls.

Ellyn walked a little ahead of him, and he allowed her. Maker knew how little freedom she was given, he was not about to give her any less.

A cat limped out of the shadows and mewed pitifully, and Ellyn sat in the alleyway to stroke its fur. Lord Amell wondered if she would like a cat. His daughter was lonely, and a cat around the house would provide company that Revka wouldn't object to. It was a black cat with little white paws, barely bigger than a kitten, rather cute, actually. Half of one of its pointy ears was missing, and it walked with a limp. The marketplace of Denerim was apparently dangerous for kittens, he mused.

Maybe he could ask the Tranquil proprietor in the shop to look after Ellyn for a few minutes while he procured the kitten for her birthday. It wasn't often that he found something that held her interest, and the cat seemed to like Ellyn as well. He could take it to a healer and have that lame paw looked at. Or maybe he should find another cat, one that wasn't lame or likely to carry fleas.

He watched as Ellyn gave the cat a few more parting pats before she stood to go. Her father took a few steps forward and took her hand just as the cat sauntered away.

It wasn't limping.

She felt his hand tighten on hers for a second, and she was quite confused when her father mumbled something about it being late, even though it was afternoon still and it was barely half an hour since they left the estate. Ellyn, as usual, was good. She did not complain of their shortened outing as she was led away back home.

* * *

><p>They were fighting.<p>

Ellyn sat in the hallway outside her room, listening to the muffled argument coming from the library, most of which was absorbed by all the tapestries and carpeting her mother was so fond of.

There was only so much an almost six year old could understand about the world, especially one as sheltered as she was. Mother did not like it when Ellyn made her hands glow and made boo-boos go away, but she did not know her father's opinion when it came to the healing. The cat was hurt, and she couldn't just leave it be.

Was it so bad for her to want something for once? She wanted the cat to get better. She made another mistake again, a mistake that made her father anxious and fearful. Perhaps it was truly as mother said; the less she wanted, the less she would be disappointed. Mother wanted a normal child, and what did she get? A mage. Ellyn was best to be reminded of it everyday.

She wanted to laugh and mean it. Then she chastised herself for ever thinking about wanting anything, let alone happiness.

* * *

><p>Ellyn remembered running from the screaming and shouting behind her, right into a chantry. It was not the one in Denerim, that was for sure. It wasn't anywhere near as large as the one in Denerim, but the smell was the same. Sandalwood and incense, mingled with the musty scent of old vellum.<p>

A glint of silver startled her, and she glanced to her left to find a man in armour and a skirt. Templar. Mother said to stay away from them. "Are you alright?"

She was too tired to speak or to argue. When she began to cry, the man led her to a room off the side of the main altar and gave her bread and cold gravy. She hadn't eaten anything in three days. It was better than anything she ever had, even better than Orlesian pastries, and she told him so. The templar was taken aback. Here he thought he caught a lost orphan, and lost orphans would never have had the chance to eat Orlesian pastries.

"What's your name? And where are you from?"

"Ellyn Amell, Eight River Street, palace district." She mumbled out between bites of bread. It was a phrase her mother asked her to say since her first words.

"How did you ... come to be here? In Highever?"

"We're in Highever?" Her eyes went big as saucers. She knew where Highever was, from studying her father's maps. It was a long way from home. "I was ... home, and then I woke up in a carriage with ... elves. I snuck out when I saw torches through the bars."

"Elves?" There was only one reason why a locked carriage full of elves would be travelling to highever. To take ship. "The people who sat in the front of the carriage. Did they speak common? Can you understand them?"

"No. They spoke gibberish." _Slavers._

She was left alone in the chantry with one of the sisters while the templar went off to investigate her claims. She liked the chantry. When she was at home in Denerim, mother never went for fear of leaving her alone at home, and she didn't want to bring her daughter ever, for fear of the templars.

Ellyn sat on one of the pews, stared up at the statue of Andraste, and she was not afraid.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you."<p>

"There was nothing else I could have done! At least in Tevinter she can be free."

"Those people were slavers!"

"How was I supposed to know that? These underground contacts are not exactly reliable. The only other option was to give her to the Circle." 

"We can keep her. She can learn to hide her powers."

"Harbouring an apostate is against Chantry law! She'll ruin us!"

"Apostate - this is our daughter you're talking about!"

"So what? We can have other children. Other children who are not mages."

"How can you be so heartless?"

"How can you be so unreasonable? If anyone finds out that mage blood is still strong in our family, our name will be dragged in the mud. Again."

* * *

><p>Ellyn sat in the study with a letter opener and considered her wrists. Maybe if she died, then they could have those other children, children that would not be mages, then at last, her parents would be happy.<p>

She raised the pointed end and practised a slash in the air above an arm, when she remembered those warnings about 'blood' magic in her books and wondered if cutting herself would summon demons.

No one heard when the doors were opened just enough for Ellyn to press herself through it outside. Neither did they hear when those doors were carefully pushed closed again.

She made it as far as the Chantry doors, large, oaken things reinforced with iron. The templars standing next to them wore those closed helms that made them unrecognizable, and she had the distinct feeling that they were guarding the doors in their sleep. She pushed one with both arms out, bracing her feet on the ground, putting all her weight behind it. It wouldn't budge.

Ellyn knocked on one of the templar's gauntlets tentatively. "What – what are you doing here this time of night?" He sputtered, as little girls showing up at the Chantry alone at three bells was not a common sight.

For a few seconds, she did not know. It was an impulse. Did she need help with the door? "If you kill me with your sword, does that mean I won't turn into a demon?"

It was her sixth birthday.


End file.
